Observations
by cassielouwho
Summary: Jemma Simmons has always had a school girl type crush on Agent Ward. Though, annoying and frustrating it was manageable. How wrong she was, because now it's a fact that can't be ignored. A fact that could cost both their lives.**Disclaimer: I own nothing**
1. Chapter 1

Jemma let out a sigh and tucked away the papers that she had been reading back into their file. She should be happy, delighted, something other than what she was feeling now. Ever since she had first laid eyes on Ward she had thought he was cute. It wasn't supposed to grow. It was supposed to be a stupid school girl's crush on the agent.

Instead, slowly she felt herself noticing things about Ward. That's what Jemma did best, observe. Maybe not how he and May had been trained, but she observed none the less. Unlike Ward and May, when she saw things there was no end result in mind. When Jemma observed she wanted to see every detail and understand why. And observe every detail she did.

It wasn't exclusive to Ward. She only noticed her observations with him more. He was taller than her. Over a head taller. If she wanted to kiss him, which she did, she would most likely have to reach up on her toes to do so. Not that she minded, Jemma loved differences in heights. Ward always took two showers. Both morning and night, both after what ever training or mission he had participated in. He liked the night ones hot- she learned this after wanting to relax in the shower after a tiring day, only to be found that the hot water had been used up. Depending on the time, after his shower he would settle on the couch with a book. Jemma figured that was how he decompressed. When he was reading he preferred to be left alone judging by the glares that Skye had earned. He ate a balanced meal. He seemed to go by the food pyramid.

With another sigh, Jemma forced herself up from where she had been sitting crossed legged on her bed. Jemma felt her way through the darkness to one of the bathrooms on the plane. It was late, there was no point in turning on the lights and risk waking any one up. When she pushed back the door and made it to the sink, she splashed the much needed cold water on to her face. The cold water felt good, shocking her senses and thoughts awake. She was splashing her face again when something touched her shoulder and Jemma let out a screech as she turned around.

"Hey, hey, relax. It's just me." The voice and the hand that hand moved from her shoulder were Ward's.

She took a few breathes before speaking. "Is there a reason you follow every one into the bathroom at 1:30 in the morning?" She asked, taking a step back from him because he seemed so close to her in the confined space of the bathroom.

"I was just checking up on you." He answered. " I know it's a lot that they are asking of you."

"I'm fine." Jemma said before pushing past him and to the safety of her bunk. She wasn't fine because she would be married to Ward in the morning.


	2. Cold Feet

They were both silent as Ward drove on the highway. She had done enough talking, even if it wasn't strictly with him. May had wished her, the both of them really, good luck. Coulson had run down the details and information so many times she felt as she would never forget. Then there was Skye, inappropriate joker Skye. Skye, being Skye, had made certain jokes that had turned Jemma's cheeks a fiery red. Leo was the only one who she had the most comfortable conversation with. The one who actually saw the nervousness in Jemma's eyes. The one who had comforted her in all the right ways that years of close friend ship had taught him.

Ward and her had spoken very little. Jemma was still surprised that he had come to check in on her last night. She knew it was out of courtesy, and nothing more, but it was still something. Jemma shook her head at the thought. No, she thought to herself, no more thoughts like that; it's better that way.

"What's your name?" Ward asked, pulling Jemma out of her thoughts. She sighed before answering. "Jemma Faye, married to Grant Faye, this is our third year of marriage. You work as an information security analyst for a bank's office here, and I work as a high school chemistry teacher. We moved because of your job." He had asked for just her "name", but Jemma knew he would ask for more of the basic information later.

Her answer had earned a small smile from him. How Jemma loved those little smiles. He gave them out quite a lot, but full lipped full of happiness smiles seemed to be rare. He seemed so lonely sometimes.

"Good." Ward nodded. "You know why Skye or May couldn't do this right?" He asked, turning slightly to look at her.

"I know." Jemma mumbled. "Strange disappearances with no traces of anything left behind. A hacker and a fighter can't solve this." She said, quoting Coulson's words that had convinced her to go through this.

"Well, Mrs. Faye, this is our exist." He commented driving off the high way, with a smile tugging at his lips.

The rest of the drive was left in a some what comfortable silence. She sneaked glances at him, his expression always stoic. If he noticed her glances he didn't say so. All to soon, they were pulling up the drive way. It was nice house in an equally nice neighborhood. Jemma vaguely wondered how much S.H.I.E.L.D spent on things like this, making things look normal enough and then all the tech and gear that went a long with it. It seemed like a white picket fence type of place. Everything was pristine and perfect that they had passed on their way in. It was unsettling.

"The others will be here in an hour or so. They'll be dressed as movers, they have all the equipment and such. " He dangled the house keys for her to see. "We should go check it out first." She nodded, following him to the front door after shouldering the duffel she had packed herself. "Here we are." He said opening the door and revealing the inside of the house. The first room was a large open space that led to other hall ways and doors. "They out did them selves." Ward said glancing back at Jemma. "I've been holed up in some pretty nasty motels for months before. "

Jemma just nodded, and he let her be sensing that she wanted to be alone. This was all completely knew to her. Never had she been in this type of situation. It should be May in her place. She knew what she was doing, had done this before, had train for something like this. Not Jemma. She didn't do undercover, she did atomistic readings. She let her feet carry her around the mostly empty house while her fingers twisted the ring on her left hand.

She shouldn't even be wearing the ring. It was stupid, completely senseless. Jemma wished she had told Coulson no, well she wished she had been more firm on this point. Now, Jemma was "married" to Ward. It wasn't real, completely fake. But there was a small part of her that wanted it to be real. Maybe it was because everything was else so fake. And oh god she couldn't breathe. Her breaths were coming in short gasps and her vision was blurring and darkening at the edges-

Something cool and wet touched her forehead, and she forced herself to open her eyes to see a concerned Ward looking over there. "You worked yourself up a quite a bit. Here," He said before scoping her up gently like she weighed nothing. "There's an old couch in the back room. It's not disgusting or anything so you can rest there till there's a bed for you." Jemma just nodded weakly. " I'll deal with the movers, you just sleep it off alright." He said after depositing Jemma on the sofa. She wanted to protest, tell him that she was fine, but she was too tired and she was soon unconscious again.


	3. Box(es)(ing)

Jemma vaguely remembers being woken up again long enough to be picked up and moved once more, but when she wakes up in a bed she's slightly shocked. She reaches for her phone which has been left on the night stand, and the clock on there tells here it's two in the morning. Jemma closes her eyes again and decides to wait to morning, when she's more awake, to deal with everything.

She wakes for good around six thirty. Jemma sits up in the bed and looks around. There's a few boxes against the wall, and her duffel has been deposited by the bed. She decides to shower first before facing Ward, because that means holding a conversation that's more than a few sentences long. Jemma doesn't hate Ward, though lately her actions have showed that she might, she just doesn't want to Ward to find out about the stupid school girl crush she has on him. After the shower and a change into clean clothes, Jemma decides on exploring the rest of the house. There are three bed rooms on the second story, with two bathrooms, including the master adjoined to the room she had slept in. The third bed room she finds has been converted into an office, and there's a couch that Ward folded himself on. He looked so peaceful sleeping, but he was way to big for the couch it was almost comical.

She leaves the room before the giggle that threatens to erupt from her mouth can wake him. Jemma should have taken a picture and sent it to Leo. He would have a field day with it. Down stairs, the larger open room has been divided into a living room and a dining room. The kitchen takes up the farthest corner of the space from the stairs with a medium size table by the area. A couch separates the dining area from the living room.

If Jemma had ever wanted to settle down, focus on other things then the lab, have a life that didn't revolve around science, this would be it. The house was empty, but it seemed to waiting. Waiting for the random junk of life to worm it's way in. But Jemma didn't want that kind of life. She wanted to be seeing and discovering. It's why she jumped at the chance to do field work. How many scientists got to see the world as it was happening, see discoveries as they were being made?

Most of the boxes were unpacked, and things placed in a meticulous order. Definitely Ward's doing. She was glad to see that the kitchen was one of the few places that was fully unpacked and put together. And to make it even better the fridge was fully stocked. Her lips upturned into a smile. Breakfast for two, the easiest way for her to face Ward, and if she wanted to avoid a question her mouth could be preoccupied. Jemma hummed to herself as she went about cooking. Cooking, and baking, was a comfort to Jemma. It started as a kid; the only way her mom and her bonded. If you could even call it that. Since then, when ever stressed she turned to cooking or baking. It brought order to her min because the what it took, similar to running a routine experiment. Cooking was just easier to do most times.

It wasn't till she was placing the second batch of bacon on the paper towel to drain the excess grease off that she noticed two pieces missing and a slight crunching noise coming from behind her ear. Jemma turned to face the agent who had sneaked up behind her. "Like the bacon, Ward?" She asked with a slight smile on her lips.

"Grant." He said in response to her question. Jemma gives him a puzzled look that only causes him to sigh. "My name is Grant." He explains like she's a toddler who doesn't understand simple sentences.

"I'm well aware of the fact that your first name is Grant." She sighed moving back to the stove. As much as she liked him, he was so frustratingly irritating.

"This is to not be taking lightly, _Jemma_." The use of her first name almost causes her to drop the pan she's moving to the sink. "You're in the field now, right in this very moment even though it may not seem like it. This isn't like other times when you've been in the field. Most of the times you go in and investigate, take samples. This isn't the case. You have to be someone else in order to do you work, but at the same time not draw eyes. That's why we're undercover. We're in a small town, it's not very small, but it's small enough. Small towns gossip, if they think anything suspicious is going on we won't figure out anything. So from here on it's _Grant_, not Ward. Understand?"

Jemma turns around and holds the plate out for him to take. "Ok, eat your breakfast then _Grant_." Her order earns a hint of smile from him. She cleans up the kitchen before retrieving her own plate and settles at the table to eat it. W-Grant wandered off some where, and Jemma was to interested in eating to pay attention to where he went off. A clear of a throat behind her catches her off guard once again. "Bloody hell!" She curses turning around in her seat to face him. "Do you just go around creeping up on people? It's not very polite you know."

As usual her question is ignored. "Garage in ten. You need training." He says before stalking off in what Jemma guesses is the garage. " Jemma sighs, now she get's to experience what Skye always complained about. She places her plate in the sink, Jemma decides to clean up later. It's best to not keep the man waiting. He doesn't wait long. It's hard to keep her groan from being audible. There's a punching bag hanging in wait. "Hands." Grant demands when Jemma steps inside. She holds out her hands for him. He wraps them up and directs her towards the bag. "Punching bags are ideal for basic self defense, it can't hit you back." Jemma gives an all too common eye roll, which of course is ignored. "We don't have May to back me up if something goes wrong. The rest of the team has to keep their distance to make this believable. I don't want to have to worry about you any more than I have too. You need to know enough, enough so that you can at least get away and get help."

"What about you?" She asks. She can tell the question took him off guard by the way he looks at her. Almost like he needed more explanation after her or Fitz had discovered something, and he was left not understanding their words. "I can take care of myself." He answers.

She spends about an hour on the punching bag. Her arms feel raw and heavy. And the idea of doing this again makes her cringe. "Your not done yet." He announces and Jemma freezes in her tracks. "The punching bag is for basic technique, you need to know where to throw them to make them count and make them be effective." This time she can't hide the groan that bubbles out of her mouth.

By the end of her training session, which lasted about three hours, her whole body feels like lead, and it takes a huge amount of effort to raise her arms above her head. Jemma stumbles into the bathroom to take a much needed shower. Never had she sweat so much in her entire life. When she finally left the shower and dressed she was sad to see it was only noon. With Skye her work outs had been twice a day, and Jemma was sincerely hoping it wasn't the case. Jemma focused unpacking boxes, getting everything sorted was her main priority. It also gave her a convenient excuse to not be around Grant.

With the Bus, Jemma had her bunk and lab to go hide away in. Even though the house was a bit bigger than it needed to be for just two people, it was still hard to keep out of each others way. It seemed they did a good job of it. Jemma was carrying an armful of empty card boxes to the garage when she saw him again. He was pounding away on the punching bag, gray shirt a little too snug, but she didn't mind. He cleared his throat, and she couldn't save the boxes from falling out of her grip. He came over and collected a few and stacked them up with the rest of the empty boxes. Thankfully, his usual silence worked out in her favor. They both knew she had been caught starring, but he choose not to comment on the fact.

"We're going to have to go out tomorrow or the locals might get suspicious." Jemma nodded at his observation, he knew better than she did when it came to this. "Get some sleep, Jemma. You earned it."


	4. Shock

Jemma drums her fingers against the handle bar of the orange cart she's pushing. "Do you plan on doing that this whole time?" Ward asks, once again creeping up on her and placing nails in the cart. "Sorry." She sighs, "Nerves, I guess, this isn't exactly a lab setting." Grant just shook his head. "Why do we need this stuff anyway? The house is in near perfect shape."

Grant shrugged. "I need something to do, and there are a few things that could be improved on. Plus, house hold items are often times perfect weapons when none are available." Jemma sighed at the last bit, it meant more training on her part. Her muscles were still sore from yesterday's training, and the training today didn't help either. "You know if I had wanted to be an agent, and not just the general agent every one gets termed, I mean an agent like you I would've signed up as one."

She earns a the smallest hint of a laugh from him. "You know SHIELD doesn't just let people sign up." Jemma rolled her eyes. "Yes, I'm aware of that. They recruit people, I remember I was present when I was recruited." Grant opens his mouth like he's going to fire off a comment, but the look he gives her tells Jemma to drop the subject. Jemma shifts her gaze upward and realizes the cause, there's a couple headed their way. And not just in the way that they are going to pass them, but they want to engage in actual conversation. Jemma can feel her throat closing at the thought. Jemma doesn't have the best social skills, she doesn't have the right social graces. It's mostly influenced by her time spent in a lab, but a lot of it comes from growing up in world where everyone was older than her. In a world where anything was said to her because people thought it would scare the little child away. So when the subject isn't some how related to science her words have a tendency of coming out jumbled. Or words come out that should rather be left unsaid.

The couple steadily make their way towards them, a guy and girl their age maybe a bit older. The girl, is few inches taller than Jemma, and it looks like she painted on her face. "Hey!" She steps away from the man she's with. "You don't happen to be our new neighbors'?" She looks way to excited over the fact that there is someone new. "Sorry, we usually only get the snow birds, you know? People from up north. But you two are certainly way to young to be such a thing! And your the only new people to be seen moving in yesterday!" The woman makes it seem like putting that together makes her the next great Sherlock Holmes. A moment of awkward silence follows, and Jemma realizes Ward expects her to handle this.

Jemma gives her best attempt at smile. "Y-yeah, I guess that's us then. I'm Jemma Faye," She says introducing herself. "And this is my husband W-Grant." Jemma curses herself under her breath. That was way to close to coming out as Ward. "Is that an accent? Oh my goodness that's totally an accent! Where are you from? Gosh, that's so adorable!" Jemma doesn't get a chance to answer before the woman starts talking excitedly again. "Sorry, I didn't introduce myself or my husband! I'm Jodie Miller, and this my husband Jim. Oh we certainly must talk!" Before Jemma knows it, a firm grip has wrapped around her wrist and is pulling her away. Jemma's surprised it isn't Ward when she looks up at the face. "Oh come on dear! Let's get lunch! We can introduce ourselves there! And we live right next to each other so I can drop you off later." Jemma turns her gaze back to word and mouths sorry in his direction. Unfortunately, Jodie catches her. "Dear, don't worry about him! Jim can keep him company. They'll have a guy's day, and we'll have a giiiiiirl's daaaaay." She sings out the last part. Jemma decides to go along with it, because she can't see how she can avoid this one.

* * *

It's late when Jemma gets to the house with a head ache roaring in her ears. Jodie, had mentioned just lunch, but meant lunch, shopping, dinner, and than an impromptu movie. Jemma had wanted to flee the moment she had took her to lunch, but not only did she not have a car, but her bag was left sitting in the cart with Ward and his phone. Jodie had simply assumed, when she had actually listened, that Jemma was trying to get out of the girl's day. Jodie wasn't horrible, she was just loud, neither did she stop for the other to insert their own comment. It made it a bit easier on her part, Jemma could just listen and observe. She learned that Jodie's husband, Jim, was the branch manager for the bank-the same one Ward would work at. It also supplied the reason for Jodie's excessive spending that, and her family had money, so she had money.

Jemma glanced at her watch one more time ,10:39 pm, before turning her key into the lock as soundless as she could. Opening the door was silent, but as she walked in her footsteps echoed off the empty walls, and it didn't help that her bag of left overs and shopping bag ,she was forced into, hit the door. Her spirits lifted, the house was dark. Hopefully, it meant Ward had gone off to bed. Jemma deposited the left overs in the fridge first, before making her way up the stairs to her bedroom. There were no lights up stairs, save the one coming from her bedroom. The only probable cause was that Ward was in there, and most likely wasn't happy in the least bit. It felt like coming home after sneaking out with friends and getting caught, though Jemma didn't know that feeling.

She pushed open the door, and sure enough, Ward was in there/ Jemma covered up her slight startled noise of surprise. Ward was laying on the edge of the bed in sweat pants and his usual gray t-shirt with a book leveled on his chest. As she entered the room, he closed the book and looked up at her. Jemma did not like that expression he was giving her in the slightest. He was pissed, that much she could tell, but there was something else here too. It was hidden behind his anger, but there nonetheless.

"Simmons, you've been working as a field agent for quite some time now. Even though this situation is new to you, you know that you must always have open lines to communication. So explain to my why it's almost eleven, and there was nothing from you?" His voice had taken on a slight edge. The tone used when he wanted information and wanted it at that very moment.

"I'm sorry." She squeaked out. Jemma hadn't purposely left her phone and bag. He was standing in front of her, she hadn't seen him move, their height differences clearly apparent. "It is unprofessional." He spat out. "Even for a scientist." He said the word like it tasted sour in his mouth. Knowing him, it probably did. "What if something happened? I wouldn't be able to help you. Or vice versa. Dammit Jemma! You could have gotten hurt!" His words leave her in a haze of shock, the door slamming shut behind her snaps her out of it. She sunk onto the bed, tired from the days activities, shocked from the words that came from the agent's mouth. Still shocked that she had been chosen to do this. Shocked, that maybe, Ward cared for her ,ore than he wanted to admit. He had run from the room after all. Jemma shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself, she was letting herself dream something impossible, and that was bad. Very bad.

* * *

**Author's Note**: First of all, I just want to say thanks for all the views and such! This is my first ever fanfic. I do plan on keeping up with this. Hopefully, I'll post about a chapter a week.


	5. Cross

{AN: minor FZZT spoliers, because how could I not include it? Also major time jump because my brain isn't working.}

Jemma ached for her bunk on the bus. It's been a week since their little freak out. His little freak out. Ever since the alien virus situation, he's been hot and cold. It's been driving Jemma mad. Sometimes ward is easy going, readable, human. And then others he cold and hard to read. Whiplash. That's what Jemma gets from his constant switching sides. He's outburst last week was weird. Jemma didn't have a place to put it. She sorted it out with I'm-mad-at-you-because-of-your-actions mood rating judging off of what happened between Skye and the Rising Tides. However this was different. Jemma didn't think it was just her one action that had set him off. He was worried for her.

* * *

It was a long month. It was a long month of waking up at six and working out before starting the day. It was a long month calling Leo at night to rant about the day. It was a long month of teaching chemistry to teenagers more obsessed with themselves and others. It was a long month of dealing with her ever so excitable neighbor. It was a long month spent in the most, normal, boring town that Jemma was going insane. It was a long month spent with Ward. Sometimes he was happy and joked, and others he was cold and distant. Some days he was back to the person was before jumping after her. Whiplash.

"How's agent Grumpy-pants?" The Scottish accent chimes over the phone.

"Oh harty har har, Fitz." Jemma sighed. "Better today." she answered. "Mainly, because he wasn't here when I woke up."

"What do you mean wasn't there?" He asks again.

"Isn't." Jemma corrected him. "He left a note saying something suspicious ran through the bank servers. Said something about checking it out. Should I be worried? It's almost 7pm here. I...I haven't heard from him at all."

Jemma squeezes her eyes shut. How could she be so clueless? It was Friday, they usually went down to one of the local bars around this time. Ward should be here. Or she should know where he is and what he's doing. Fitz is rambling out words that are supposed to be reassuring. Jemma starts pacing the living room. Coulson comes on the line briefly to tell her that everything should be fine, that there's no need to worry. But Jemma _can't_ not worry.

This is how Grant felt, Jemma realizes. Their first time out of the house, and she goes disappearing on him with out a word. Did he call the Bus too? Did he pace endlessly like she was now?

8 pm. Jemma tries his cell again. No answer. "You better be dead. And if your not, you will be for not answering your bloody phone!"

9 pm. Nothing still. No sign of life. He left before she was up. It's been longer then twelve hours. He could be dead. Jemma reminds herself that he's not. The towns not that small. Still, Jemma worries.

3:38 am. "Hey. Simmons, wake up. Why are you on the floor?"

Jemma sat up from her sprawled position on the floor. "Ward?" She asked sleepily. Then it dawned on her. "You asshole!" She screeched, not giving him a chance to stay anything. "You made a huge bloody deal out of me not calling and you go and disappear like that! It's almost been a whole day! Is that blood?" Jemma asked quietly seeing the red seeping through his gray shirt.

"I'm so- yes." He answered tiredly.

Jemma sighed. "I'll stitch you up, and you can explain what happened."

Grant's shirts leave very little to the imagination. Jemma had seen him missing his shirt before, but only brief flashes. Those may or may not be burned into her mind. Grant laid his head back on the table, cushioned by a rolled up towel, after he removed his blood soaked shirt. It's hard to not stare, but Jemma does stare in a way. She does, after all, have to stitch up the nasty gash on his side that curves from under his armpit to the start of shoulder. If only there wasn't so much blood.

"Is there a reason we're doing this in the kitchen? On the table."

"Better lighting." Jemma answered, leaning closer to expect the wound. "So, are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Simmons..." He sighed.

"No, you don't get to Simmons me Grant. Not after that." She silenced him with her firm tone. It felt weird calling him by his first name. She only called him Grant when in the company of the townspeople. Even then it felt odd, but it got her point across. "You can't Simmons me and expect to get out of explaining what happened." Jemma leaned back in the wooden chair crossing her arms across her chest. She was not playing games. "I'm not even touching that till I get answers."

"Fine, then." Grant answered, forcing himself up with an audible grunt.

Jemma watched the color drain out of his face. He lost more blood than she thought. With a gentle hand , she pushed Ward back to laying on the table.

"Fitz was right." Ward muttered, it was met with a raised eyebrow from Jemma. "He said don't mess with you when your cross." Ward explained.

She gave him a slight grin. "He knows from experience." Jemma places a wet cloth on the wound. It's met with a hiss of breath from him. "It's pretty swollen. Made by a knife, I assume?"

He hesitates. "Yes..."

"And why is that? Did it have something to do with the bank servers?"

"Yes." He answers again. "It did."

"Explain." Jemma says quietly, as she starts flushing the wound.

"You know how Jim Miller is the head of the bank here?" Jemma nods. "Well, all the emails going to him on the bank servers are encrypted, but it's always English. Even the ones from overseas accounts. This- augh- was...in french." He pants the last bit out.

"Sorry." Jemma winced with him. "So, I'm taking that was suspicious?"

Ward nodded. "It took me a few hours to even get to his personal computer to get the final copy of the email. And then..." Ward pauses to wince at her probing fingers. "Decoding it was hard. It was still encrypted. Apparently he had to do that himself. So that took a few hours. And it was weird. It was just a massive list of GPS locations. Which, I followed, they were all local. It was trap." He sighed. "They were waiting for me."

"Do they know it was you?" Jemma asked nervously.

"I think they're s-suspicious." He grit his teeth at Jemma.

"Sorry." She squeaked. "There's still fragments of what ever knife they used. It's weird sometimes they move on their own accord."

"Yes." Grant grunted. "I _can_ feel it. Anyway, we need to be careful. Our cover could be blown."

Jemma nodded. She looked over him. Grant didn't look great, at all. His skin was pale, and sweat lined his forehead. His wound worried her even more. She had gotten all the medal out that she could, but there could be more. And it was still too swollen to do much of anything with.

"Jemma...just tell me." His voice, the use of first name, pulls Jemma out of her thoughts.

Jemma ignores him as she wraps up the cut, as she places a damp wash cloth on his hot forehead.

"Jemma." He says as he places his hand against her arm.

"I'm sorry, Grant. But this, what they used to hurt you..It's not normal. It's not right. If the wound was-" Her voice cracks. "If the wound was," She started again. "Deeper, you could be dead. But," She tries to put a smile back on. "We are no where close to that. Get some sleep, ok?" Jemma leans over and places a gentle kiss on his forehead. She doesn't know why she does it, but it feels right. She's pulling away, when, with his good arm, he pulls her lips to his.

She wishes she didn't feel his fever through the kiss.


	6. Splint

He gets worse, his fever gets worse. By six am, Jemma herself is exhausted. The only comfort she has is in Coulson. Jemma called him once Grant was fast asleep. He has surveillance on the house, and back up waiting if their cover is blown. Their concern is in Grant,though. For the past hour Jemma has been debating whether or not to give Grant something to reduce his fever. If she knew what it was that was in him, she'd know how to handle this, but she doesn't. She can't risk it.

Jemma's re-wetting the cloth on his forehead when she notices his eyes. They're open, but unfocused and frantic. They're wrong, crazed even.

"Hey, Grant." She greets in the most calming voice she can muster.

"My -my brother." He gets out.

Jemma looks at him confused. "Your brother?"

"Where is he?!" Grant demands. And then he's sitting up. Which he shouldn't be doing; he still doesn't have stitches in his side, and the few wires he's hooked up to restrain him. Apparently, he doesn't like them, he rips them free.

"Let's calm down a bit, huh?" Jemma suggests, pressing on his shoulder to get him to lay back down. Whatever is in his system is making him crazed. A too rough hand wraps around her left wrist. "Let go." She whispers, worry in her voice. Jemma tries not too, but she shrieks when it's twisted. He lets go at least.

"Let's calm down." She suggests again, but her voice is too shaky, her wrist hurts too much.

Jemma tries again to get him to lay down.

"My brother!" He shouts. A force knocks into her head by her right eye, hard enough for her to spin from the impact, hard enough to send her crashing to the ground.

* * *

Her head hurts, blossoming pain from her skull. Jemma forces herself to open her eyes. The light hurts, piercing her eyes, it makes Jemma want to puke. It'd be easy, nice even, to curl back up and sleep, but the sight in front of her stops her. Grant must have fallen after he punched her.

Jemma sits up, swallows the nausea, and scoots herself over to him. Surprisingly, his fever is almost better. His color is better, almost everything is better with Grant. There's blood on the floor, falling aggravated his wound, but even that is better. It's not as swollen. At least, there is an upside to this. Jemma does her best to re-wrap the cut with her right hand. He'll have to stay on the floor till he can move himself. Once he's cared for, Jemma decides to care for herself.

Her reflection in the mirror scares herself. Her pale skin, by her right eye, blossoms a horrific blueish black hue. Dry blood crusts under her nose. Apparently, when he punched her he got a bit of her nose too. It's tender to the touch, but not broken. Small upsides. Her wrist didn't spare the same fate. It'll have to wait. Jemma looks like a mess, she is a mess. Her shirt is covered in his blood. She does her best to wash up. Jemma's starting to scrub away the blood from her nose when she hears the call. 8:30; she promised she'd do a video call with Coulson and the rest of the team.

"We have to keep this sh-" Coulson starts when Jemma stands in front of the tv. Everyone- Coulson, May, Skye, and Fitz- seems to cringe at the sight of her.

"Jemma. Jemma! Your bleeding. Why are your bleeding?" Fitz demands.

"Jemma." Coulson says quietly. "I know full well that no one else is at the house. Please, please, tell me that" He waves a hand at her face, "wasn't caused by agent Ward."

She doesn't answer for a long minute. "It was. Whatever was in his system caused a brief bout of hysteria and aggression. He's alright now, better actually. He should heal properly now."

'What about you, Simmons? You don't have to continue this. You don't have to be brave. We can pull you both from this mission, we can send in someone else."

Jemma would shake her head if it didn't hurt so much. "No. It's alright. He didn't mean too. I'm alright, really. Just a bump on the head is all" She does her best to force a laugh. It's a struggle.

"Ok, then." Coulson sighs. He knows there's no point in arguing once her mind is made up. "Get closer to the Millers. We believe they are involved in this some how. You need to keep better radio silence, too." Coulson adds. "No more calls with Fitz. Good luck, Simmons. We're rooting for you."

Jemma smiles weakly. "Thank you."

* * *

Jemma, finally, stitches up Grant's side when the video call is over. It's not an easy task with one working hand, and a possible concussion. Add the fact she's not a medical doctor, the stitches could be better executed. Wonky they may be, but they'll do just fine. She yearns for a nice long warm shower. In this state, how ever, it's not going to happen.

Jemma does her best to wrap her left hand. She'll have to get it checked out by a doctor. If a doctor could see Ward, it would lessen her worry. Though, he'll be able to hide his injury. The stomach flu will work as the perfect cover. No one will miss her wrist though, not the way the small town notices details so well.

It's noon when Ward surfaces for good, eyes full of clarity too. Normal means he's alright; that he'll get better.

Jemma had settled by Ward on the floor, a pillow resting against her back as she sat against the table leg, and she had lifted Ward's head to rest against her legs.

"Simmons." He greets, his voice rough. Then his facial features shift as his eyes focus on her face.

"Did I do that?" He whispers. "I... I hurt you." Ward sounds shocked, he is shocked by the realization.

"Yes. What they did to you, it caused a short period of hysteria and aggression. " Jemma explains in hopes the guilt will leave his eyes. It doesn't.

He pushes himself up, the pain not registering, not yet at least. "No, no." Ward says firmly. "They didn't give me _anything_. I-I hurt you!"

"Let's calm down a bit, yeah?" Jemma's half afraid that the aggression is still in his system. She hopes its not.

"Call, Coulson." Ward firmly demands. "I want you out of here. Your a scientist, not a field agent. You're not fit for this."

"I already called him. I told him I'm staying, that we're staying-"

"Then call him back and tell him you changed your mind!" Ward cuts her off. "If you were a trained agent you would not be looking at me with a bruised face and a broken wrist, _that I caused._ Just...just go away." Jemma doesn't hesitate to leave. There was nothing in him to chemically cause the hurt and anger in his voice. That was all him.

* * *

"Aw, you poor thing." Jodie says looking over at Jemma. She's said varying degrees of this so much that Jemma's patience is already wearing thing. Not to mention, Jemma was dress shopping with Jodie. A girl's day was the answer to everything apparently, even broken bones.

"You're lucky you have a friend like me," Jodie went on. "because you need all the help you can get for the charity dinner at the country club."

"Country club?" Jemma questioned, she hadn't known there was one, or a dinner for that.

"Yeah, didn't Grant tell you? Jim invited you both to come to the dinner. He organizes it every year for the hospital here."

Jemma shook her head. The bruise had faded, now a week a later, the only physical reminder was her wrist. "No, I guess it slipped his mind. He only just got over the stomach bug that was going around, and with my tripping down the stairs, well we've both been a bit forgetful."

"Speaking of which, are you two alright? You don't seem to be getting along that great. Your not fighting are you?"

"Oh, no! Of course not." Jemma squeezed her eyes shut. It probably did look that they were fighting. Since the incident, Grant had been on the "hot" side. They barely spoke to each other now. And their brief words were always strained. "I think...uh moving has taken quite a toll on us." Jemma searched desperately for a good enough excuse for Jodie. The girl liked to pry information till she was satisfied.

"Ahh, so it's a no sex thing then?"

" A what?!" Jemma asks shocked, her cheeks reddening.

"I called it! You and your Grant-y aren't getting it on! And I know just the way to fix it." Jodie proclaims. All of Jemma's refusals are drowned out by the music Jodie decides that needs to be played at full volume.

* * *

Jemma smoothed her palms over her dress, maybe they were a bit sweaty. Maybe it was from the nerves. Never, on her own accord, would Jemma be wearing this dress. The problem wasn't the length, it stopped just below her finger tips, very proper. The problem wasn't the neckline that came to stop at her collar bone and thin line dipped down to expose a bit of cleavage, but was covered by a thin semi-transparent black material. It was the tightness of the black dress. It was the flashiness of the sequins that adorned her shoulders and the bottom hem.

She let out a giggle. In her own opinion, she looked ridiculous. Her hair was swept into an up do. It wasn't supposed to be messy, but her hair styling options were limited by her splinted wrist. She kept her makeup simple, as always, but had added sparkle. Jodie lived by the belief that sparkles solved everything. This belief had been inflicted on Jemma's black splint that was now bedazzled. If they didn't come off by Monday, Jodie was going to experience the wrath of a chemist. Though, she wouldn't suspect a thing, and if it was done, would blame it on something she ate.

A knock on the bathroom door stopped her giggle. "Hey, you ready?" Ward asked as he opened the door enough to peek inside. When his eyes caught sight of her, his mouth seemed to hang up. Though, he gained his composer after a few seconds. "You look...beautiful."

Jemma blushed despite of herself. "Thanks. You uh scrubbed up nicely yourself." Though, seeing him in a suit and tie wasn't exactly new.

"Come on." He said as he pulled her out of the bathroom. "Don't want Jodie to start a fuss over us being late. We don't need her thinking we're fighting?"

Jemma frowned. "You know about that?"

"Yes." He answered. "Jim approached me about the matter. You should have told me, that's what an _agent_ would do."

"I... I'm s-"

"Let's go." He sighed, dropping the subject.


	7. Heartless

Jemma found herself twisting the ring again. It became quite a habit; twisting the ring with her nervousness. This time there were no reassuring words from Ward to calm her down. He only spoke, only looked at her if there was reason and purpose for such actions. The fact that he commented on her dress surprised Jemma. She didn't expect any words between them till their arrival at the country club. Though, that was mainly to tell her how she wasn't an agent. Who did he think he was? Telling her that she wasn't an agent! Sure, her physical skills in combat was severely limited along side her knowledge of tactics, but that didn't make her any less of an agent.

"You should stay close to Jodie tonight." Ward says, giving Jemma a sideways glance as he steered the car.

"Why?" She asked, which earned a sigh from Ward.

" Because I said so, but you're going to keep asking questions if I give you that. Your worse than Skye sometimes." He mumbled, shaking his head.

"What?" Jemma asked turning in her seat to shoot him an glare.

"You ask questions, always asking questions. Do you ever just stay quiet for more than five minutes?"

"Really? Your going to comment on my speaking? I'm sorry having a curious intellect is _so_ annoying to you agent Ward." Jemma snapped. "It most be so hard for you to get up everyday and be so _heartless_."

Luckily, they were already at a stop light; Jemma was sure he'd stop the car if it was moving with squealing brakes. Something flashes in his eyes that she's never quite seen before, it looked like he was shocked, maybe even hurt by her words. He doesn't say anything, he turns his attention on the road, sets his jaw, and fixes his grip on the wheel. She doesn't talk the rest of the way to the country club.

"Just stay close to Jodie, alright?" He requests, running a hand through his hair.

"Ward, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

Ward shook his head. "No your not." He places one of their comms in her hand.

Jemma eyes it suspiciously. They haven't used these at all since they've been here. It's been too risky, but for whatever unseen reason Ward wants her to use it. When they both get out of the car, they decide to hold hands. Normal non-fake married couples who are happy as could be holds hands. He has to move to her right side with the splint getting in his way. Her hand, oddly, fits comfortably in his hand. The grip in which he holds it is not comfortable. Unlike the few men in Jemma's life, Ward doesn't hold her like a fragile vase that nearly crashed to the ground. He doesn't hold her hand like it's about to break from the tiny amount of pressure would break it. Instead, he holds her hand like he's about to break it. It's Jodie who saves her hand; she greets them at the entrance.

"Aw! Look at you two!" Jodie squeals before enveloping them both in an awkward hug. She pulls away, and immediately gives Jemma a disapproving look. "Oh, honey, we must do something about the awful mess on your head. Now, tell your husband good bye we'll see him later."

Jemma bit her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes. She reached up on her toes and gave him a quick kiss. She had gotten too used to kissing Ward. It didn't eve strike her as strange anymore. It felt automatic. "See you later, sweetie. Have a good time by the bar." She says before Jodie pulls her into the nearest restroom.

Apparently, Jodie thought her hair wasn't the only thing that needing fixing. When Jodie was done, her hair was pulled into an elegant up-do with a few tendrils of hair framing her face. Luckily, Jemma was allowed to keep her black wedges. However, her dress did not spare the same fate. Apparently, her short dress was too informal. She was now dressed in floor length black slim gown with a way too high thigh slit and exposed more cleavage then Jemma was comfortable with.

Jemma gave the man who was no doubt staring at her a small smile as she sat at the bar. Wasn't that what people did in this situation? Ward was no where in sight. A part of her brain jumped to a handful of bad situations. She was worried. Surely, he would've said something over the comm if something was wrong, right?

"Can I buy you a drink miss? You look awful lonely in that dress of yours." It was same person who had been staring at her earlier.

Jemma's careless smile disappeared. It was a wonder how she had survived being social around people for a month, there were a few blunders of course. Flirting was never supposed to be in the mix. "Oh, um, no. No, thank you. It's a , uhhh, a very nice gesture, but I'm waiting for-"

"Her husband." Ward finished for her. Jemma didn't know when he appeared, but she was thankful for it. The stranger, with out a word, left. Ward sighed. "I thought I told you to stay with Jodie." He sighed before his eyes widened. "Is that a different dress?"

"Your observational skills are tremendous." Jemma grumbled. "Yes, and I was with Jodie for your information. Till she forced me into this dress, and then just disappeared when I came out of the stall. And where were you Grant?" She desperately wanted to call him agent Ward with a sharp tone, hit him where it hurt for criticizing, but they were in public.

"I was looking around." His answer was too simple. "Come on, Jemma I'll show you."

Jemma let him help her off her chair. Jodie had pointed out the hand holding wasn't the way to go, chiming it looked too innocent for them, so she awkwardly placed her arm on his back and forced him to walk closer to her.

"May I ask what you're doing?" He whispered into her ear. She hoped he didn't notice the shudder he caused.

"Trying to look like your wife." She whispered back. "Plus, I don't want to be hit on again." To Jemma's surprise, Grant laughed real and genuine. He really wasn't heartless. She wished she could take back those words.

"It'd be an honor to hit on you Jemma. Come on then, miss. I do in fact have something to show you." He added pulling her towards a stair case. Ward explained everything as they climbed the steps together. The same people who had hurt him, which Jemma didn't like, were here. All seen at one point with Jim Miller. Ward had also heard bits of pieces of a conversation containing a serum, which was mentioned to be located where he was taking Jemma. He paused at the door and pressed something metal into her hands. It was a small pistol.

"Jemma, I need you to listen to me no matter what I say. If I tell you too run or hide, you do just that. And you use the gun if needed." He directed her.

Jemma didn't like his words, but nodded anyway because he was right. "Well, I did want to leave the lab." She muttered. Unfortunately, the door they were trying to open was looked, but it only took Ward a minute to open it. Ward held up his hand to stop Jemma from further following him into the room. She still wasn't used to having to wait for rooms to be cleared of threats before entering.

"Ok, it's all good." He said and waved his hand for her to join him. Jemma entered the room at his signal, it was suite.

"Any clues on what it looks like or it's being contained in? Oh, how I wished for one of the DWARVEs right now." She sighed. "It'd be so much easier to locate what we're looking for." Ward shrugged at her comment, and searched through the bookshelves. Jemma decided on seeking out things that were out of the ordinary or didn't quite fit in compared to the rest of the suite. She also decided to search the other room, might as well waste efforts in one place with a more than capable agent. Jemma smiled at the picture in the small little sitting room, it was lovely depiction of a bright spring garden. She took a closer at it noticing the dust. It was, surprisingly, fairly dusty except for where it looked like someone had lifted it up.

"Oh, that's bloody ridiculous." She laughed to herself. "Hey, Ward! I think I found something-" The sound of glass crashing cut her off. Part of her brain was screaming at Jemma to run. She ignored that part, and inced her way back to the first of the suite. She tried, really tried, to keep her terrified squeak when the person in front of Ward jumped to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Jemma, are you alright?" He asked carefully.

Jemma nodded trying her best to avoid the two very dead bodies at his feet. Death didn't scare her, but she had never seen it happen like that in front of her.

He took a step towards her like he was going to comfort her, but closed his eyes. He was counting the steps. "Ok, Jemma. You have to listen to me." He glanced around. "You need to hide. And have the gun ready. Just in case." She numbly nodded, and turned to search for a place to hide.

Her hiding place turned out to be the empty space between two couches in the sitting room. It was hidden, but it was in no right ideal. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of grunts and fighting. And she hope it was Ward who was alright in this. Her fingernails were digging half-circles into her skin, but she it was alright it kept her distracted enough to keep her eyes open, otherwise she'd be joining the bodies on the floor. A shadow loomed over her, and when she glanced up she quickly assumed it was Ward. Sadly, it wasn't. Her breath quickened at the sight of the man, and the twisted smile that her wore.

"Ah, so you were the one Mason mentioned earlier. Said you were quite a looker."

Jemma's fingers trembled with the gun her hands. The splint didn't help her already grip either. Could she really do it? It was that or she'd be the one left on the floor.


	8. Little Chemist

Her fingers are trembling and her whole body is shaking. Shoot to save her life, or join the others. The guy isn't making matters any easier. Jemma's brain is too logical, the flight or fight response buried too deep with in. It's there, but her brain trusts logic. And logic is telling her the man in front of her isn't advancing, only listing verbal threats, therefore he's not an immediate threat. The logical part is also telling her he is a threat. Her brain, her thoughts, are at war with themselves.

His smiled faded. "Sorry, sweet heart, but I got my own orders. I'd love to play around with you. Put the gun down, honey. You don't have it in you. I promise it won't hurt too much." His lips twisted back into a wicked grin. "I'll make it better."

Jemma blinks a few times before his words register in her mind. Her grip is weak and shaky, but it's strong enough. Her eyes squeeze shut; she doesn't want to see the next part. Doesn't need to see the damage she knows her hands will cause.

A shot rings out.

Someone calls her name, helps her up, walks her out, puts her seat belt on, calls a clean up crew, keeps glancing over at her silent form in the car.

"Simmons, we're at the house now. You have to get out." His words wake her up, and she nods in response.

She doesn't say anything. The scene replays in her head in constant repeat, an endless loop of torture. Her hands, his life. Jemma doesn't realize she walked to the bathroom till she feels the spray of water on her face, soaking the dress she neglected to take off. It shocks her senses awake, and Jemma crumples into a ball under the stream of water. She wished her senses had stayed in the numb like shock they were in previously.

* * *

Ward rubs his eyes before knocking back the scotch he doesn't take the time to taste. Jemma, for the second time, got hurt. The first time that he caused still ate away at him, made his skin crawl. He was violent man, Grant knew this, but his violence wasn't used on those who did nothing to provoke it. He shook his head to rid the thoughts, and focused on the voice talking over the phone.

"How is she?" Coulson asked, his concern not hidden at all.

"She's in the shower, now. In shock. She should have _never_ been in a position that she needed to have done that. She shouldn't be _here_ in the first place. Don't get me wrong, sir, Je-Simmons is a great agent, but her skill are else where. She should be in a lab, she should be protected by walls, not guns."

"I know." Coulson answered. "I agree she should be protected, but she doesn't need to be kept away in a lab. Agent Simmons is more than capable of handling herself as she demonstrated tonight, Ward. It's time you realize that. Just make sure the both of you come back."

"Yes, sir." Ward said before hanging up the phone and letting his eyes fall close. Jemma could take care of herself, he learned that today. But that didn't mean he was happy about it. Protecting people was what he did, it came naturally to him, and protecting Jemma made him feel _right_. Just like the way he noticed her. The way he didn't want to forget her eyes when they lit up in the lab, her smile sweet and radiant, her ramblings of scientific theories even if long and annoying. He hated how he noticed it all. He hated how emotions came so easily to her, when he had to work to keep up his covers because it required fake smiles and laughs. Hers were always so real. He hated that her words in the car were correct.

With a slight sigh, he pulled himself from the stool in the kitchen. Sleep was often the answer in these awkward situation in which he didn't know how to deal with his emotions. They happened too often, which is why he preferred to be alone. Silence and solitude was easy. It created less problems in the long run. He paused, his ears picking up on the sound of the shower running. Jemma went to shower an hour ago; she should be out by now.

"Jemma?" He calls as he knocks on the bathroom door. Her name feels forbidden, safe only in the presence of others who are oblivious of the truth. "You alright?" He asks when there's no answer.

Silence is all he gets for an answer, and he can't help but worry for the biochemist. She's strong, he'd be blind to miss it, but she was inexperienced. She was just a baby who still needed help and watchful eye kept on her at all times.

Grant took a deep breath before speaking. "Ok, Jemma I'm going to come in. Uh, I hope your decent, if your not just let me know. I'll look at the floor or something." He never had a problem when it came to speaking except for when it came to her. She doesn't answer again, and his worry increases. The door creaks open when he pushes it gently, Jemma didn't even close it properly.

His breath freezes in his throat. There she is, his little chemist, her knees pulled up to her chest visibility shivering underneath the spray of water. Grant doesn't say anything-he doesn't need too let alone know what to say- as he deposits himself next to her. Her head comes to rest on her shoulder, but her gaze doesn't leave her hands which are held slightly open to receive the water.

"I can still feel his blood." She whispers in a shaky voice. Shee had been so close that splatter was inevitable.

He took her tremblings hands in his own, and inspected her pruned skin. They were clean, but he knew that feeling all to well. It was easy to locate the soap, but it was hard to not disrupt Jemma when he got the soap, though she moved very little when he settled back down. With a gentle touch he wasn't accustomed to using on something other than a live explosive, he washed her hands rubbing small soothing circles as he did too. He could feel her relax against him along with her consent shivering. Before she could protest, he turned off the water. "I'll get you something to change into."

Grant searched her drawers for a few minutes. He had let Jemma have the bedroom, and had never really gone in it himself let alone learn how she organized her clothing. It feels like a violation of her privacy- it is-, but she can't stay in the soaked gown. There's no doubt she'll have a cold in the morning. Grant goes with one of her baggy t-shirts and sweat pants, and grabs the first pair of underwear that he sees. He also finds a towel for her, and leaves them in the bathroom for her.

"I'll leave you too it then." He announced, singling for her to get up, but she makes no attempt to do so. Doing his best to be gentle, he pulls her up and propels her out of the shower. Her eyes are glued to the ground, and he lifts her chin up. "Hey, look at me." Grant paused till her eyes moved up. "It gets easier, I promise. Get dressed." He leans down slightly to press a kiss to her hair. Grant doesn't realize what he's doing till he's straightening himself out and catches the faintest of smiles on her pale lips.

Grant lets Jemma be after that, though he did go and check to see if she made it out of the bathroom. She did, he found her curled up in her bed. He didn't check to see if she was sleeping; it was best to leave her be right now. When he first killed someone he had tried to keep it to himself. Unlike her, his first kill was by knife in a back alley of a city. He held it together in front of everyone, or at least he tried too. When he was asked a question by the commanding leading the op he opened his mouth and threw up instead. Grant had wanted to be alone then, and he figured Jemma would want the same.

Jemma. When did it become Jemma and not Simmons in his mind? When did her lips look so soft? When did her looking like she was going to cry upset him? She was taking over his thoughts, and his actions were starting follow. This wasn't good, or safe. Relationships were allowed, but they were strict so much that people kept them a secret for a reason. A few bad break ups had caused a few people's level to change even.

Jemma's small voice disrupted his thoughts. "I can't sleep."

"I didn't think you would." he admitted, though he hadn't expected her to seek out comfort in him. He had expected her to break radio silence and call Fitz. Coulson, everyone really, would understand that one. Grant closed the book he was reading, or at least was trying to read, but he was too distracted and the words didn't stick in his mind. "Do you want to sleep?"

There was a pause before she answered. "Yes."

"Ok." He got up, and despite her protests lead her to his bed. Jemma curled up on her side, and Grant carefully laid down next to her with the book in his hands. She didn't say anything when he started reading. He had read to his brother when he couldn't sleep. It didn't matter your age; being read to sleep was the quickest way to fall asleep. Grant read till the words blurred beneath his eyes. When he glanced over at Jemma, she was fast asleep. As gentle as he could be, he got up from the bed. He pulled the blanket up around her shoulders more, and smiled down at her sleeping form. His little chemist.


	9. Flour

Jemma wakes to a slight ache in the back of her throat and a small headache pounding against her skull and all too vivid memories of last night. It takes her moment to realize that the navy blue comforter isn't the light green one on her bed. It takes another moment, her brain is too sluggish, to realize she's in Ward's bedroom. Really, it's the guest room, but he took it over as his.

"Hey, sleeping beauty. Finally rise from your slumber?" He asked from the door way, and surprisingly holding a cup of steaming liquid; tea most likely.

"You didn't kiss me, I hope." Her attempt at humor was modest at best. There's a hollowness in her voice that can't be missed. Maybe, if last night had been different the humor would roll off her tongue naturally. She zoned out again, lost somewhere between memories and nightmares. Is this what he dealt with after he killed someone? Did they all go through this, or was it just her?

"I uh made you tea. I know you don't take sugar, but I put honey in it. You had a bit of a fever earlier." He placed the warm cup in her cold hands, and she gratefully inhaled the scent. It reminded her of home, but she didn't want to think about the family she was missing either.

" Are you going all stalker-ish vampire on me? But uh thanks." she smiled after taking a sip. The honey did feel soothing. "And for last night too. It really helped. I'd probably still be awake right now."

Grant shook his head. "It's nothing. Just get some rest, you need it."

Jemma spends the next few hours in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness. She wants to slip back into the comfort of deep sleep, but last nights events keeps pulling her awake. With a sigh, she pulls herself out of his bed. Jemma learned to bake with her mother when she was young, and she took it up very easily. When she got older baking became a comfort to her, being the youngest in her class had it's down falls. Most of her class mates looked down on her because of her age, so she'd innocently bake cookies and such. No one ever looked at her as the cause when a few got sick, it was only a bit of food poisoning, though looking back Jemma liked to think she could have gone further.

Grant was in the living room with the news on when she came down. Jemma paused to listen to the anchor drone on about the shooting last night. Thanks to SHIELD, everything had been arranged to point the blame on someone else. Which was being reported on now. If only they knew how clueless they were being.

Jemma's hands knew what they were doing before her brain gave them the command. She was moving about the kitchen in autopilot collecting bowls, ingredients, and various utensils.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Grant asked from his spot on the couch.

"It's just a headache." She answered.

"I know, but-"

'Please, Grant, but I don't want to talk about it. I-I get what happened last night, what I did. But I can't just lay there and dwell about it any longer. I don't know how you do it, but I certainly can't!"

Silence fell on them, and Jemma turned her attention back to the assembly line she had set up. Ingredients behind the bowls, and utensils in front of them too. She didn't have OCD tendencies like Fitz, but there were some things that needed to be set up a certain way. Some things had to be familiar, just like chocolate chip cookies she was going to bake, and maybe sugar cookies if the chocolate wasn't soothing enough.

"It gets easier. After a while, all the death gets easier. Maybe not better, but...it gets easier. I promise, with time." Ward says from behind her, sending the flour she was measuring out to slip from her grasp . Jemma waves the white haze away from her face. He had to stop sneaking up on her like that. She was going to hurt herself some day.

Jemma turned around to face him. And he laughed. He, stoic I-work-alone, Grant Ward was laughing. "What? Is there something on my face?" She asked innocently, knowing full well her face was covered with white flour.

"Just a little." He laughed.

"I don't think that's exactly fair." Jemma frowned. "I mean- you did scare me and cause this mess." She gestured to the counter. As fast as she could, which wasn't fast at all, Jemma scoped up spilled flour from the counter and threw it at him.

He raised an eyebrow at white flour standing out against his usual pristine black shirt.

Jemma laughed shrugging her shoulders. "Ops?"

Grant, being taller than her, reached behind her easily and grabbed the bag of flour.

"No." She shrieked with laughter. "Put it down Agent Ward! Don't you dare!"

Grant didn't say anything, only a smiled pulled at his lips. Jemma tried to run away from him, but she wasn't fast and even though she was laughing, the headache still pounded away dulling her senses. He looped an arm around her waist and pulled her back to him. Jemma laughed and twisted, but he was too strong for her.

Her laughing grew louder when he dumped the remaining flour over her head. A good amount coated him too, which only caused Jemma to laugh more.

* * *

Grant's ears were no stranger to Jemma's bright laugh. She laughed a lot, sometimes it was small and reserved, and sometimes it was loud and drowned out his thoughts. Jemma laughed and smiled more than she admitted. She laughed more than she noticed. Not that he noticed, if he did-which he certainly didn't- it was to get and know her better. It was important to know his team mates.

Holding her, Grant had never realized the power that echoed in her laugh. She had been sad before, even though she tried to hide it, and she was, for the moment anyway, happy. Sure, Grant had helped with that, but she was happy now and that's what counted. Fitz, stupid annoyingly Scottish Fitz, he would've put a smile on her face right away. She wouldn't have been sitting on cold wet tiles if he had been there. If Jemma wasn't still laughing; his thoughts would've turned darker. Her laugh was powerful.

* * *

Jemma untangled herself from Grant's firm grasp. That had certainly been unexpected. She glanced around the mess- no way was he winning this little war so easily. Before he has time to react, Jemma reached for the attachment sprayer on the faucet and aimed the spray of water towards Grant.

He wiped the water from his face, a grin taking over his lips. "Is that how it's going to be?"

Jemma laughed, it almost sounded like a cackle. Maybe it was. "Yes. What are you going to do about Agent Ward?" She regrets the question as soon as it leaves her lips. Grant doesn't need the invitation; he would've done what ever he plans with out. But the invitation certainly helps; it amuses him.

He's silent as his arms wrap around her again; this time, they lift her torso over his shoulder. Jemma shrieks and laughs with protest, but she can't escape his grip.

"This isn't fair! Put me down!" She tried to sound serious, but the giggling didn't help.

'Yes, it is." He answers back. Jemma can hear the smile in his voice.

She starts to kick and squirm when she's aware of where's she's being carried too. "There." She muttered when her feet meet solid ground. "Was that so-" Her moment is short lived. She's in the shower again, and this time Grant has the nozzle. Jemma laughs when the water hits her square in the face, it's not too cold or hot so it's not that bad. They wrestle for control for a few minutes; laughter leaving both their mouths, and water soaking the both of them. Jemma ends up clinging to Grant's soaked t-shrit. She can feel his hot breath on her cold neck sending shivers down her spine. And oh God she wants him to kiss her. Needs him to kiss her.

He moves a clump of wet hair clinging to her forehead behind her ear.

"Grant..." She whispers, her voice too weak for comfort.

And he kisses her; his head dipping down to meet hers, his lips surprisingly soft and gentle. She lets him be gentle with her for a few minutes, but Jemma doesn't want to be gentle. She doesn't want to feel like she'll break, and she starts to deepen the kiss, makes it rough till she can't breathe and pulls away to gasp for breath.

Grant doesn't give her a long time to recover because his lips are on her's again. He seemed to get the hint. He's done being gentle. Jemma's fingers tug at the hem of his soggy shirt.

"Wait." He says pulling away and leaving Jemma frowning.

'What?"

"If you take off my shirt I won't stop Jemma. I won't be able to stop." He sighed looking frustrated with himself.

"Who said I wanted you to?" Jemma asked, and kissed him before he could answer.

Grant eyes skimmed the sleeping woman next to him. Her back was bare, the sheet only covering her legs, the freckles on clear display. Those fucking freckles. Grant untangled himself from the the sheets with out waking Jemma. He shouldn't have slept with her. It was a _mistake_. It shouldn't have been one, but it is. She was breakable, vulnerable, just a baby. And Grant had let her in, let her get close. Sleeping with her wasn't exactly spur of the moment. He had simply taken advantage of the moment. Grant had wanted to sleep with her, but not like this. Not after what she had gone through. She should have gone when she had the chance. He wish she had gone. Jemma wasn't May; she couldn't handle this. She wouldn't be able to handle sleeping with him because she didn't understand. May understood because they did the same thing over and over. Jemma had killed once and that shouldn't have happened, she was just a baby. Grant had slept with May because they understood each other and it helped them heal. Jemma was just a fucking baby. He sighed shaking his head. Jemma fucking Simmons was messing with his mind and it stopped _now_.


	10. May Day

Skye always asked him what he dreamed about. He answered in eye rolls and halfhearted sighs. Truthfully, Grant wanted to tell her that he didn't dream; that he only saw darkness when he slept. That was untrue. When, and if, his eyes closed in sleep, past memories resurfaced. They were the kind that only those who had killed before experienced. The kind that really only went away with exhaustion, when Grant truly only saw darkness in his sleep or what he saw wasn't so unbearable. Maybe even normal. This is what he tried to protect Jemma from. No, Simmons. He had let himself get too attached, had let emotions control his mind.

Jemma was a girl who was emotionally invested in fictional characters. Simmons was an up coming SHIELD scientist who tended to be energetic . He needed to forget Jemma; needed to remember the woman with the bounce to her step when she first greeted him on the Bus. Grant needed to remember the woman who he shot innocent smiles and glances just to provoke a smile, or engage in her small arguments. That was safe, respectable even.

He couldn't trust Jemma Simmons. Trust wasn't the right word, but he didn't want to think of the other. For that reason, he didn't wake up the woman sleeping in his bed who was now going to be late. If he woke her up, she'd be late for an entirely different reason.

* * *

Jemma rushed through her room, fingers grabbing at whatever laid in their path. She had stupidly slept in. Which only gave her ten minutes to get ready. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem skipping a shower, but after last night it just felt wrong. Well, there were some things that would just have to wait. She did, though, manage to wash her face wet her hair so it looked nice and neat. And anyway, she was "married" and young. What did people expect to happen?

* * *

Everything ached. Her head and mending wrist especially. As soon as the door shut behind her, Jemma was on the couch with her shoes off and her feet propped up. Her patience had been sapped away from students and the three meetings that she had forgotten about and the lecture she endured for being late. All she wanted to do was settle herself on the couch and not move, not have to focus on anything.

Apparently, she had enough patience, or enough energy left, to sit up with a smile when Grant walked in himself. "Hey." She greeted him in her usual bright and bubbly tone.

She didn't get an answer or even a glance towards her way.

"So that's how it's going to be?" She asked as she folded her arms over her chest. Maybe she didn't have patience with him after all.

Grant sighed. "Is this about last night?"

"No, it's about lunch. " She retorted with a roll of her eyes "Of course it's about last night and this morning, and right now!"

Grant shook his head. "What were you expecting? Flowers when you woke up?"

"No. I was expecting to be woken up in general. Instead, I was late today. For someone who's so uptight about keeping our cover, you're certainly not caring about any longer!"

His expression seemed to change in an instant. Before he had looked slightly annoyed and exhausted, but now he looked angry, like he had the last straw.

"Do. Not. Talk. To. Me. Like. You're. A. Field. Agent." He spat out each word.

Jemma stood up in a threat to look more intimating, or at least look like she was holding her ground, but it was a pathetic attempt. He towered over her as he took a step closer to her; Grant was angry she realized. His eyes almost held the same fire when he had touched the staff.

"I don't care how good you are,: He said stopping in front of her. "You are still a _scientist_. Killing someone doesn't make you anything like May. You shouldn't have killed any one. That's what I should have done. But do not get yourself confused with who you are not. I will not be responsible for your death, Simmons. You can do that on your own time, in your own lab."

Jemma looked up at him with shock filled eyes. "So you're telling me I'm not Agent May, but your are treating me just like her. Do you know how contradicting that is?"

Grant paused looking at her in confusion. Obviously, missing her point. "What do you mean?" He asked slowly, but they both knew he had been caught.

"Oh, spare me the kicked puppy look." She muttered to herself. "What I mean," Jemma said louder, "Is that I know about what ever it is you and Agent May have going on. What's the term? I think Skye mentioned that the term fuck buddies would be acceptable."

Grant was angry, and Jemma had only made it worse. "You know what? Maybe I was. Maybe I was hoping you could be at the very least a SHIELD agent who could separate the physical from the emotional. But as it turns out, I was wrong." His face was just inches from hers. "I made a _mistake_ sleeping with you."

"Y-you bloody asshole." Jemma sputtered. She wanted to say something that would hurt, she wanted to do something, but instead she fled with tears in her eyes to her bed room.

* * *

Her finger hovered above the call button. By pressing it Jemma would break radio silence for a completely invalid reason . But Jemma needed to; she needed the comfort. So, Jemma pressed the button and settled so her cheek was pressed against the cool surface of the phone as she laid on her side on the bed.

"Hey. It's midnight here. Is everything alright? Please tell me everything is alright! Because you know- you're only supposed to call if there's trouble. Especially with Mr. Rule-Follower there." Skye fired out when she answered.

"Relax." Jemma sighed.

"Wait-are you breaking rules? Whoo you go girl! Hey, you alright, you don't sound so peppy."

"No." Jemma answered.

"Do you want me to wake Fitz." Skye answered.

"No! Don't wake him. I called you on purpose."

"Okay. So, why did you call?"

Jemma closed her eyes as she chose her words. "Remember when your were explaining friends with benefits? I was talking about May and Ward."

"What!? Would you repeat that?"

"Keep your voice down." Jemma hissed knowing the doom the would befall them both if someone found out they were talking and what they were discussing. " And you heard me." She muttered not wanting to say the words again like not repeating them made it less true.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." Skye whispered back. Skye knew about Jemma's crush.

"And, um, we slept together last night." Jemma added.

"Oh. My. God. Give me all the details! Is he a good kisser? What does he do with hands? Who started it? Wait-no. I don't want to know what my SO does in bed thank you very much."

"Skye." Jemma hissed again. 'T-that's not why I called."

"What happened?" Skye asked softly, realizing the distraught in Jemma's voice.

"He is just a bloody asshole-" Her voice cracked.

* * *

Jemma talked to Skye for about an hour. She wished a few tears hadn't rolled down her cheek and Skye said words that were supposed to reassure her that everything was going to be alright. Grant was right- she couldn't separate the emotional from the physical.

She heard her door creak open, but she doesn't make note of it. Jemma's in one of those weird states. Where her mind is too lost in thought that her body doesn't even feel like it belongs to her. Like someone severed the tie between body and mind. Maybe someone did.

"Jemma."

She blinked a few times before her eyes actually focused on the sight in front of her which happened to be of Grant, who had at some point laid down on his back next to her.

Jemma let out a pathetic "Oh" at him.

"Your right." He sighed after a few minutes of silence. Grant turned on his side to look at her. "I've been holding you to unfair standards. It...was wrong of me to assume a relationship between us to be like May's and I."

Jemma blinks at him in response. She doesn't know how to respond, and she's still experiencing that odd disconnect between body and 's sure if she did speak it would come out jumbled.

It takes him a few minutes to speak again; his face conflicted with thought. "And, you know, May and I stopped it. We did it because we understood each other on a different level. I guess what I'm trying to say, or at least what I'm trying to get at, is I don't want to hurt you and I did that by sleeping with you."

"Don't." She whispered. "Don't give me that bull about protecting me by shutting me out."

"Jemma." he sighed, "It's _true_. Me and you can't happen. You're too breakable. Not because your a scientist, but because of what I do."

"Don't." Jemma repeated, but it was ignored as he kept speaking.

"Trust me, Jemma. I would like to say we could be something, but I won't put you at risk for my own actions. I am trying to protect you."

"And how would you know you were putting me at risk?" Jemma questioned.

"Because it's happened before." He answered quietly.

"We have the scientific method for a reason." Jemma explained. "We record every step, every result so someone else can recreate the experiment and determine if the results are the same. Nothing happens without experimentation."

He sighed in response.

"Can we try?" Jemma asked, a bit of hope leaking into her voice.

He didn't answer for a long time leaving Jemma in silence.


	11. Freezer

"No." He answered finally.

"So, that's it? All I get is a no. What the hell goes on in side your head?"

Grant frowned looking at her. "What does that mean?"

"When we were on the Bus, you were so much nicer. Y-you were... human." Jemma answered. "I mean you smiled at me, and you'd glance over at me, and entertain my stupid arguments. And ever since we started this assignment you've been different. And _that_ hurts me. You are constantly changing between sweet and smiley to cold and distant." Jemma took a deep breath. "I understand, at least I'm trying too, why you don't want us to be a thing, but please. Just choose one."

"Jemma." He sighed again. "On the Bus it was different. I could afford to give those smiles and glances and pointless bickering because it was safe, because on the Bus I didn't have to worry about you getting hurt. Only when there was a direct threat to your safety and the others. Plus, you have the most beautiful smile. Fitz doesn't get to be the only one to earn it."

"So, I'm too much of a threat to you?" Jemma questioned. She meant for it to speak it with an edge to her voice, though it came out much weaker squeaking at the end.

She could feel him move besides her, and Jemma squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry for this. She had vowed to herself she would not cry over something that didn't exist, and she was dangerously close to breaking that vow.

"You're too much of threat for yourself. You're too brave for your own good." He whispered, lips brushing against her ear sending goose-bumps across her skin.

She doesn't open her eyes when the door closed softly behind him. She doesn't open them when she was sure no tears would travel down her cheeks.

* * *

Maybe it was kind of cruel saying those things to her. Ok, it was cruel. Grant had wanted nothing more to say yes to the scientist, to agree to her "experimentation". Yet, here he was pounding away on the punching bag. He had made mistakes in his past. Not in the slightest was he proud of them. And in this effort to avoid adding to the already large list, Grant had succeeded in increasing it's size. Not only that, he had wiped away those perfect smiles that would grace Jemma's lip. He even managed to hint towards his jealousy of the monkey. Fitz and Simmons wouldn't be anything more than friends, they were family, it didn't worry Ward. There was no second guessing on that part. Ward was simply jealous of their relationship.

It didn't matter how many times he involved himself in her arguments or how many times he tried to make her smile, Fitz would always have Jemma. Even on a bad day. Fitz knew what to say to calm her down or make her laugh while Grant was still struggling along to figure Jemma out. It shouldn't be hard. Being a specialist has earned it's perks, but he finds himself constantly over thinking simple matters when it comes to her.

He punched the bag again letting it focus him. Speaking to her earlier, he had almost revealed something that was kept under lock and key, kept with his family he left behind. Thoughts that were better off with cob webs.

The bitter attitude he had had existed long before the incident, though it certainly didn't improve the chip on his shoulder. He also knew that at the time, a year into full duty as a specialist, separating physical and emotional was an easy task for him already. These lines, though, in certain situations could and would be blurred. Sometimes the physical needed the backing of emotional ties. It was manipulative and effective. Over stepping lines saved lives. It had also lost one. Sure, he faked it. It kept the girl alive in the beginning. If confusing lines didn't work when it wasn't real, what would happen if his interactions were true? Was combining two entities previously separated worth the risk?

Grant let his arms fall to his sides. Delving into old memories would not help him. It would not rid the guilty feeling that sat heavy in his chest. Still, he worries for her. He knows his words hurt. He knew it before he said it, they were designed too. Grant didn't realize how much they would hurt himself.

Physical and emotional. He couldn't cross those lines again.

* * *

Jemma sighed at her alarm. If she was wise, she would have taken Coulson's offer. Of course, knowing her, she did the exact opposite. Which, would've saved her the emotional roller coaster that Ward was causing. For a scientist, sometimes her logic really sucked.

"Bloody bastard." She muttered to her toothbrush. Great, now she was talking to inanimate objects.

So, maybe Grant and her couldn't or wouldn't be a thing. That was understandable, but being locked out wasn't going to work either.

No way was Jemma going to be fake smiles and happiness in public then drop the whole act in the safety of the house. No, she was not asking for him to say yes. There was some logic that pierced through the crush induced haze that clouded her brain. But this was not the time that she had accidentally locked herself in one the freezers back at the Academy either. She was not going to let Ward just keep her locked in the cold.

It bothered her all day. The notion of confronting Ward about this didn't leave her thoughts as she went through out the day. Her classes passed by quickly. Jemma was hoping they would pass by slowly, though that would only give her more time to second guess herself. The final bell rang, releasing the students. Then she flitted around the class room putting away things, passing away the thirty minutes with little chores till she'd be released.

Then, it was passing time at the house. Cleaning, only because there was really nothing other to do that could properly distract her. She'd bake, but the memory of her last encounter only made Jemma more nervous for the talk.

* * *

"We need to talk." Her words interrupt the punch Ward was aiming at the punching bag.

Even with his back turned she can tell he sighed by the way his shoulders slumped, though the sound doesn't escape past his lips. He doesn't say anything either as he takes his time unwinding the hand wraps that protect his knuckles.

"Okay." Was the only thing Jemma got when he turned around, face expectant for what ever Jemma was going to say.

It felt like her throat was constricting, choking off the few words that were about to roll off her tongue. She was so used to being passive in situations. Speaking the words that were kept bottled up when provoked, when the situation called for it. Jemma was used to pushing personal things aside and making light of it. Addressing problems head on like this was not a fairly new thing for her, just something that didn't happen often. But she was strong, she could do this. So, she cleared her throat and started again.

"All of this isn't exactly fair, you know?" Her voice was still to shaky for her liking, but at least it was a start.

Grant sighed again. "Simmons, I'm not discussing this again with you."

"I know, you said you weren't, but _I_ am." This time her voice was stronger, though it still had room to go if she ever wanted to sound as intimating as May.

"Listen, I get it. You're right, boundaries exist for a reason. I get it." Jemma sighed. "I got hopeful, and I apologize for it. I'm not like May. Kisses and such aren't just little nothings that don't matter. I just...it's beside the point. The point is weren't Katniss and Peeta."

The reference was completely lost him. Classics, she remembered, that's what he read a majority of.

Jemma waved her hand to wave away the mention and refocus herself. "I know you have boundaries, but that doesn't mean you can just treat me like I'm not even worthy of any attention when we're not being a married couple."

Something flashes in Grant's eyes. Jemma wish she could have recorded the brief moment or go back and see it again, because it's all to short to properly see what it meant. What emotions showed on his generally hard to read expressions. Though, he's still keeping silent.

"You want to protect me. That much is perfectly understandable, admirable really. Though, what you're doing now is completely idiotic and unnecessary. You did a perfectly fine job of protecting me on the Bus, Agent Ward. I see no reason why you can't do the same here."

He gives her one of his usual nods before breaking his self imposed silence. "Ok, but this is something you have to be ok with. Which," Ward flashes a brief smile. " you seem to be. You're training in the mornings starts back up tomorrow."

Jemma grins, giving him an awkward hug. "Oh, thank you!" Simmons for the win!

"Oh, and one more thing Simmons. What did the toothbrush ever to you?" He asked, mockingly with an eyebrow raised jokingly.

Her face immediately paled. "Oh, pffft. That? That was nothing." She mumbled.

"I'm joking, Simmons." He laughed smiling, though Jemma didn't see as she made her way out of the garage.

* * *

Jemma beat him to the garage in the morning. She wasn't happy about the work out sessions in the morning. Most nights, not the past few for obvious reasons, they went out on the the town as any fairly new married couple would. Which, as they were slacking, was something they needed to pick up. Meaning no time for late night sweat sessions. Their cover was the last thing they had.

There wasn't really a lead, and there was nothing they could do with out any more suspicious deaths happening.

"Hey. How do you feel about hiking?" Grant asked, meeting her at the punching bag.


	12. FZZT

"This has to look to suspicious." Jemma muttered as she rubs her wrist. The brace came off last night after no longer being needed, though she grew accustomed to wearing it. It is nice to have it off though.

"What?" Ward asked though he didn't take his eyes off the road to glance her way.

"All these days absent from teaching. We don't have a good lead or anything. If we loose our cover..."

"I think after this, we'll have a lead. Or we'll at least have a way of figuring out who it is."

"Where exactly are we going, Ward?"

"Hikers found a dead body. SHIELD was able to intercept before state police. We have about a day or two to figure out what we can hear before it gets turned over to the police." Ward answered.

"Can't SHIELD take full jurisdiction over this?"

Ward shook his head. "Normally, yes. But they can't risk it with us in the field. The townspeople would get suspicious with government milling around. It'd alert who ever is behind this."

Jemma lets out a pathetic "Oh. Makes sense." She's not used to this. She's used to having complete access of what she's working on. She's not used to these barriers except the ones caused by here level 5 status. Though, being on the Bus, it barely even affects her with Coulson running the show.

"How long do we have?" Jemma asked, trying to figure out what was best to deal with a dead body. A dead body, she was more than hesitant to be around and she wasn't even there yet.

"Two days at most. The police will learn about the body eventually. Any longer, and the police will be suspicious of why they weren't alerted sooner."

Jemma sighed. Being under cover was much too complicated for her sometimes. Too many obstacles for her liking.

"Wouldn't it just be easier to include the police on what were doing?" She questioned. Jemma was surprised Ward had kept his cool, she had been nothing but questions since they started driving.

"It's a small town." He answered simply, fingers reaching for the radio dial signaling question time is over.

"It's not that small." Jemma huffed. Grant just laughed shaking his head at her.

* * *

Dead body. The word just kept running around in her mind. Jemma keeps wiping her palms across her jeans. Enough for Ward to glance over a time or two. She shouldn't be nervous. There's no need too. Yet, the fear creeps into her mind.

The buzzing fills her ears.

It's not real.

But it feels real. The sound identical to the one that filled her ears. Jemma squeezes her eyes shut. It's not real. It's not real. It's just the random firings of neurons in her hippocampus and the auditory cortex of her brain.

But it feels real.

"Simmons?" Ward asks, though, his voice sounds far away.

"Jemma?" He questions again when she doesn't answer. The buzzing in her ears is too strong now.

"Jemma, talk to me please. Jemma." If there wasn't such an intense buzzing vibrating in her skull, she would here the worry in his voice.

Jemma's vaguely aware of the car slowing down as it pulls off the road. She's vaguely aware of the opening and closing of the driver's side door.

But it's only a dim awareness. All her senses are distracted by the buzzing in her head.

"Jemma." Ward speaks softly after opening her door.

She doesn't answer. She can't answer. Jemma fears if she opens her mouth to attempt at brushing this aside with a lie that a scream will leave her mouth instead.

"Ok." He sighs. "What do you need? How can I help?"

Jemma shakes her head lightly as much as the increasing pain in her head allows. There's nothing he can do despite her wishing that he could. If he could bring relief to all of this, she'd happily tell him how. Though, he can't.

"What do you want to do? We can go back. SHIELD could send in another team." He sounds sincere. So sincere, that it almost hides his lie. If they leave now, their chance at examining the body is lost entirely.

"No." Jemma croaks. "I'm fine." It's a lie too.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." She answers softly. There's no point in arguing. They both know this. He's driving again after more than a few worried glances in her direction.

This isn't the first time that the buzzing sound has filled her skull, blocked out everything, but the noise. She wished it was, well Jemma wished it never happened. That the neurons in her brain didn't create this own personal hell. The first time it happened was the night after her near death experience. It woke her from her dreams. At the time, it was easier to pretend it wasn't happening. The buzzing being caused by a nightmare, not her malfunctioning brain. It had also been easier to pretend it was a one and only time sort of thing. If Jemma choose to not let it happen, surely, it wouldn't repeat itself. However, she quickly learned she didn't control it.

The second time Jemma didn't have the luxury of keeping it to herself, though, she tried. Jemma and her other half had been to left to themselves on the Bus while the others went out. Of course, they were in the lab when the sound crept into her ears. At first, it was easy to ignore with clenched teeth. Fitz didn't seem to notice. It didn't last. As much as she tried to keep check of her diminishing senses, she dropped a microscope slide alerting Fitz of her state. There was no use further hiding it- Jemma didn't want to hide it. It hurt too much. Fitz held her till the tears slowed, till her head was left hollow. He even covered for her when the rest of the team and asked why Jemma was holed away in her bunk.

Fitz even kept her secret. Pointless now since Ward was now currently witnessing her third episode. Jemma squeezed her eyes shut. It eased the pain some what, though it was more wishful thinking than actual lessening of pain.

A warm comforting hand reached out to rub her shoulder. "You're alright." Ward spoke softly as if they were spoken any louder they'd hurt her.

Jemma isn't alright, she certainly doesn't look to be alright. Her knees are curled as close as she can get them to her chest. Eyes squeezed painfully shut. Muscles cramping. Hands clamped over her ears muffling outside noises further. She is poster picture of not alright.

She looses track of the time. It can't belong, their destination only a few hours away, but she isn't aware of the unexpected traffic. The stillness of the car pulls Jemma out of her dazed state enough to crack open her eyes to a parking lot.

"Motel." Ward explains simply.

"What? Why?" Jemma forces her voice to be stronger. "I'm fine, I can still work."

Ward shook his head. "No your not." When she opened her mouth to protest, he took hold of her left hand and held it up to her eye level. "You're _shaking_. You're in no condition to work."

The buzzing noise is starting to fade. Not a lot, but enough to keep Jemma from shooting a retort at Ward. Jemma doesn't like. She doesn't like being told if she can or can not work. Science was her thing, yet her he was just proving reason to how useless she felt. May, maybe even Skye, wouldn't be shaking like this.

* * *

By the time it takes Ward to get them a room and for him to give the all clear to step in the room after he swept it, the buzzing has begun it's gradual descent. Most likely, it will take about an hour to disappear completely before leaving her with a head ache and all around soreness. Judging from the lat two experiences anyway. Jemma's comforted by the fact that she doesn't need to do anything for the rest of the afternoon. She could still work, but the simple fact is that she doesn't want too. Coupled with everything else, Ward was right somewhat. Though, she won't admit too it.

Single bed. That's what her eyes fall on first. Jemma forces her mind from dwelling on it. Too much with her head for now. Her eyes move on the small duffel he brought in for her. Shower. That's what Jemma turns her thoughts to. Right now, that's all she wants to do.

Jemma nods towards the bathroom, and Ward takes the hint.

"Take out?" He's giving her space whether she wants it or not, she nods again.

Jemma leans against the closed bathroom door, like she's the only thing keeping it closed, till she's sure he's gone. It's just her in the tiny bathroom.

It was just her in the lab. Jemma shakes her head, forcing the thought to leave her mind. Dwelling will only make it worse, but a tiny voice tells her there's no Fitz to comfort her here. Not even Ward, he's off getting take out because he thinks space is best. She wish she spoke, tell him it was alright to stay. Being alone in the shower was enough. The presence of someone else in the other room is enough, but the room with the single bed is empty.

She lets out a shaky breath before stripping her clothes and cranking the shower on. It's scalding hot when Jemma steps into the water's stream. It's hot enough to turn her skin pink. And it's ok because she can feel it. It proves she can feel something. An odd comfort after her senses dimmed on her earlier. It brings her into focus. When Jemma steps out of the shower, nearly slipping on the wet floor, a dull ache has settled in her skull. Not pleasant, but she'll take it over the buzzing noise. Jemma's glad when that she brought her favorite hoodie. It's her SHIELD issued one, a bit baggy, but it's comfortable and it's her favorite. Jemma would wear it more often, but only new recruits wore them often. Jemma usually wore when she was alone, tucked away with a book or a movie.

* * *

"Oh God. Really?" Ward chuckles, soft and low, at the sight of Jemma. She's curled up on top of the covers of the bed, trying to find something to watch.

"What?"

He laughed again, slightly less to himself than before as he set the paper bag down. "The hoodie. You look like a newbie." Jemma instantly blushed, leave it to him to point it out. "I feel like you're going to ask for directions to one of the locker rooms."

"Ah, don't bring up locker rooms." Jemma whined. Which was met with a curious expression from him. "I _did_ ask for directions, well I was going too, but I couldn't find anyone. So, I saw a utility closet. Which was perfectly fine till someone tried to come in and change in there for themselves. Apparently, I wasn't the only lost person."

"What happened next?" He actually looked genuinely curious, but Jemma brushed it off. She was reading into things.

"Well," She laughed. "That's how I met Fitz." Ward's laugh was precious.

He handed her a take out box shaking his head. "I don't know what I was thinking." He said laughing.

"Not like you don't have any stories of your own." The pain her head is easy to ignore with him, with him laughing along with her. A warm laugh, she doesn't expect it from him.

"Afraid I do." He answered taking a seat next to her on the bed.

They sat together, swapping stories, laughing till they couldn't breathe, and pigging out on Chinese food. She almost forgot about her episode earlier sitting with him. Jemma didn't remember falling asleep, but when she opened her eyes open at some odd hour in the morning, her head was on Grant's chest. Part of her brain told her to move, but the warm arm holding her against him didn't want to let her move. And truthfully, Jemma didn't want to either. She feel back asleep with a smile on her lips.


	13. Fine

Jemma wakes to the shower running and Ward gone from the bed. They slept together. Not in that way. Not in the way where there would be repercussions. Well, there would still be some from this, but it was more innocent. It left that fluttery feeling in her stomach. Decreased blood flow to her stomach, that's causing the feeling. But Jemma knows that ultimately it's Ward's who's causing it in the first place. Science and reason only get you so far till you dive into the emotional side of things.

They eat their left overs for breakfast. Silence. Ward barely speaks to her at all. Only short things, however, he did ask if she was alright. It wasn't much, but at least he cared. It wasn't that she knew he didn't care, it was just hard to tell with him sometimes. He wore a scowl so often that it was hard to remember that he could laugh and smile too. And cuddle. That was cuddling last night, or at least some mild form of it. Grant Ward cuddles. And that brought a smile to her lips. The car ride was silent too. Uncomfortable and silent, and not at all helping with the worry that was beginning to make it's presence known to Jemma. The buzzing noise didn't start again. That was good, though, it did little to settle the nervousness.

"What? No science lesson?" Ward asks, spooking Jemma because it's so quiet, after about an hour of following a trail into the trees.

She can't tell if he's serious or merely joking. And she doesn't have the concentration to deal with the first, just barely for the second either. "No." Jemma answers with a slight shake of her head. Joking, that's what Jemma wants. She wants the stories and laughs from last night. And the falling asleep together. It's as if that caught up with him, cuddling included, and he has to compensate with slight scowls and silence.

"You can talk about it." He speaks softly.

"I really don't." Jemma speaks up this time. It gets her point across because he gives a slight sigh, but lets her be.

It doesn't seem like it'd be comforting, but it is. It's just the forest and them, nothing disturbing their peace. She's knows that if she did want to talk-to tell him how much she hated it, how she felt like it was breaking her one tiny piece at a time- Jemma knows she could. And that's the comfort she needs, at least for now.

Ward's hands find her shoulders and turn them gently to the right. "Wrong way, sweetheart." He's joking this time. Well, as far as she can tell.

It's not long after that till they find _it_. The body, and she's not ready. Her heart is beating too fast. She can't breather. Her lungs are pushing air in and out, but nothings coming from it. Jemma still feels starved even with every breath that comes in and out.

Jemma takes a deep breath, and another till the feeling lessens. When she looks up from staring at the damp ground, brown hues stare down at her worriedly.

"I'm okay." Jemma says again after taking another soothing deep breath. He waits a moment to see if she means it. To see if she'll open and just tell him what's going on in her head.

"Body." It rolls off her lips with a sigh. "Lets just examine the body and go back the suburbia."

Jemma nods to camera bag slung across Ward's shoulder. "Start here and take pictures as we get closer." The body is only a few meters away from where they stand.

"There's nothing here."

"Just do it." Her bubbly spirit and usual gentles is still missing from her words and actions.

"You don't have to do it alone you know?"

"I know. It'll be faster though. Just come over when your done. I need pictures of the body too."

Her eyes bore holes in the tree by the body's head. His head; it's a man. Late twenties, early thirties from what Jemma can tell. Time of death must have occurred roughly 48-56 hours ago. He wasn't killed here, but brought. There would be a lot more blood; accounting for the single stab wound that judging from what she could see, created a hole in his lung. Of course, there could be more damage. Jemma couldn't bring herself to properly analyze the body. She couldn't bring herself to touch it in anyway.

She's saved when Ward comes back from touching it for a bit of time. So, Jemma directs him what she wants pictures taken.

"I'll help you." He announces after tucking the camera away.

"I-I don't need any help, thank you very much. I'm perfectly capable of doing this myself." Jemma began to protest.

"It will be faster." And it was. Ward took direction easily; it was the only conversation that passed between the two as they retrieved samples from the body and surrounding area. Jemma found comfort in the few tech items they could use. It was still heavily restricted on what items they used, but Jemma had always worked along side technology. A benefit of having a rocket scientist as a lab partner. Using technology became second nature to Jemma, but unlike many, she didn't rely on it. Manual sample collection was slow going even with Ward's help. The sun was beginning it's decent behind the mountains when they climbed into the car.

"We need to talk." Ward declared, fingers reaching out to shut off the radio and leave the two agents in silence.

"About?" Jemma had a feeling she knew.

"I'm worried." Ward glanced over at her. "What was that yesterday?"

Jemma held up her hand and closed her eyes briefly before opening them again. "Please, Ward. I don't want to get into this."

"I know you don't." He spoke with a bitterness in his voice. "But you're going too."

"Please." Jemma whispered.

"No!" Ward shouted, his demeanor changing so fast Jemma flinched back. "I-I...sorry." He hung his head for a short moment. "There's something going on with you-"

"I'm perfectly _fine_." Jemma interrupted him.

"Fine? Simmons, you call that fine?" Ward demanded. "Because that was not _fine_. Nothing about that was fine so don't bullshit me."

"I thought you were supposed to be calling me Jemma." The words taste bitter in her mouth. Jemma wants them to be bitter. He deserves it.

"Don't." He warned with the smallest shake of his head. "Don't start this with me. _Jemma_. There is something going on with you. It's not healthy. I...I can't just watch you. I can't just watch you tare yourself up like that." If Jemma wasn't exhausted from yesterday, if she wasn't mad at him now, she would've realized he was being candid.

"Please." It was a plea. It was ignored.

"I know." He exhaled, eyes glancing away from the scientist before falling back on her. "I know." He repeated. "I... You just have to tell me something. You need to tell me what happened."

Jemma shrugged her shoulders. She didn't really know herself, and even that wasn't something she wanted to share. She had even tried to keep it from Fitz. The whole team really, but Ward wasn't going to stop prying. Not until he had an answer that he felt to be concrete.

"You can't tell any one this." Grant nods, it's a fake one too. It's a nod just to keep her talking. Give her a false sense of security.

"Ok." Jemma breathed. "I-I guess I had a panic attack."

"Like the one the first day on the mission?"

Jemma nodded, deep breath in, deep breath out. "Sort of. When I was in..infected, there had been a buzzing noise in my head, in my ears. That's what I heard last night."

"Are you saying you're still infected?"

"I'm saying I'm _crazy_." Jemma explained, her voice just above a whisper.

"That's not true. Simmons, look at me."

She shook her head. "Don't, please. I can't...I just can't with this."

"You're not crazy." Ward repeated, like saying it again would make Jemma instantly accept his words. "I know crazy, I've seen crazy, and that wasn't crazy."

"Then what was it? Huh, Agent Ward? What the hell was that? Because that wasn't normal! That wasn't sane!" She was nearly shouting. She was nearly crying. Jemma hated crying. She hated feeling vulnerable. She hated when her emotions where wild and crazy and out of hand.

"I don't know. Simmons, but I know enough that it probably wasn't easy for you."

"Stop!"

"Stop what?" He asked confused.

"The little act of yours! I get it. You want nothing more than being friends. Though, your very good at confusing the hell out of me! One minutes it's Jemma, and the next it's Simmons with all seriousness. And then it's freaking cuddling. It's Simmons, I care for you or Simmons I can't even stand to look at you." Jemma squeezed her eyes shut.

He was quiet. He was shocked most likely; she'd know if she bothered to open her eyes.

"I get that this is a mission. I do, but I'm not an agent like you. I don't know how to act." Jemma spoke quietly. Her eyes found a tree outside the car and focused on that instead of the agent besides her. "I think I want you to go back to Simmons and the seriousness. I can deal with that right now."

He started the car in silence. They drove in silence the rest of the ride to their fake house, to their fake lives.


	14. Numbers

Jemma had to remind herself that this was her choice. It was her choice to shut each other out. Yes, Jemma preferred Ward when they were joking, when it was like they back on the Bus, but she didn't have the head space for it. She barely had the head space for anything come to think of it. They came home last night, and she hasn't didn't even think about looking at the samples since then.

Usually, with anything the perplexed her, Jemma would be ecstatic. Skye remarked once that Jemma looked like a kid in a candy shop. And most of the time, she did. Yet, curled up on the couch where she was just sitting there, taking every thing in, the child like enthusiasm was gone. Not just lacking in force, but gone. It was like someone stuck a syringe in her and sucked her dry of it.

With a sigh, Jemma sat up from her curled position. As much as she didn't want too, she _had_ to work. If she worked, if she figured it out, it was just one step closer to leaving. One step closer to going back to the Bus and maybe to things returning to normal. Plus, Ward would be back from work any moment. Jemma had to prove to him that she was alright even though she wasn't. Jemma told him she was fine, and she was determined to make him believe her. She'd give him the appearance of normal.

Pictures first, Jemma decided. If she was really fine, she'd rush to analyze the various samples first. But Jemma couldn't after the panic attack. She feared it'd set off another panic attack. And it was something she wanted to avoid at all costs. After searching for her laptop and note book, and finding both, she settled at the table to work. At first glance, the pictures appeared normal, except for the dead body of course. Yesterday, Jemma figured that most likely the body was killed around where it lay, and just dragged over, but now looking through the pictures Jemma knows it didn't happen like that. There's not physical evidence to support it. If the body was dragged, there would be some kind of indication in the forest floor.

In order to get the body where it was, two people had to carry it. Ward will have to take a look at the pictures. Most likely he'll be able to tell where the foot steps came from by looking at the vegetation. He did it once before when they were on the Bus. Why didn't he tell her right there and then? He would've noticed then too. They're both very observant. It's not something he would miss easily.

Jemma lets herself get up for a glass if water and find something to eat before sitting back down. This time with her microscope. She can't ignore it any more. She can't ignore the world of terms and numbers, facts that make sense, any longer.

She doesn't know how much time passes by. She just knows that it does. Unlike her parents who found comfort in words, Jemma found it in numbers and scientific reason. For some reason when she was younger they just clicked for her. Something about numbers and facts made sense in her brain; made the whole world make sense. Jemma finds comfort in them again.

The numbers take her from reality. The samples and slides in front of her become just another case to finish at just another dead line. It's easier too. With numbers she doesn't need to know where Ward is or worry about her panic attack. Everything that isn't directly related to the case empties out of her brain. Just facts and numbers.

She let out a long exhausted sigh as she straightened her back, which gave a nasty pop. Jemma rubbed her thumb against her palm messaging the cramp caused from too much writing. Ever since the Academy, she had mastered the art of writing while not directly looking as she did. Sure it was messy, but Jemma always made sure to copy it over to cleaner note books. It's later than she thought. At some point Ward set a sandwich and cup of tea next to her. Jemma hadn't even noticed.

She rolled her neck from side to side before getting up from the chair, stumbling a bit from the numb feeling in her legs from sitting for so long. The table was a bit of a mess. Papers and a few different things of equipment scattered across the surface. Jemma gave a yawn before making her way towards the stairs. She could deal with it later. Clean it up in the morning or after work. It all depended on how she felt.

Jemma paused by Ward's door, debating whether to tell him what she had found out so far. Which wasn't much. There was a lot of uncertainty that Jemma wasn't comfortable with. She needed more to work with. She needed more concrete results. She raised her hand to knock against the door, but lowered it when he heard him talking.

"Sir, I'm worried about Simmons." Jemma guessed he was talking to Coulson from his tone and the use of "sir".

She pressed her ear against the door and waited for him to speak again. "It looked like a panic attack, but I don't know. What ever it was, it didn't look good."

"Yes, sir." He sighed after another short pause. "I know you recommended her to see someone. I think it's dangerous for her to be here."

"Sir." He said more aggravated. "It happened around a dead body. She works on dead bodies, this isn't exactly ideal for her."

There was another sigh from Ward before he spoke, "Yes, I know we're close to having a possible lead, but I think it's best for her to be removed from the op. I'm well aware it would be breaking her cover."

There was a long silence. "Yes." Ward urged. 'Even if you have to forcibly remove her. You know Simmons, she can be incredibly stubborn. Fine, I'll let this be for now. If this happens again, you are taking her off this op. I will not be responsible for her mental breakdown. That's on you, sir." His words were formal, but his tone suggested he wanted to say two other words that weren't exactly appropriate to say to your boss.

Jemma figured the conversation was over, and walked with careful quiet steps to her bed room. It was quiet; she didn't like it. Jemma didn't naturally like silence. Her ears were used to hums of machines and the murmurs of people. He used to having some noise reach her ears, but there wasn't really any noise in the house. No creaking stairs or a tv playing. It was too quiet. She hated it. Jemma kicked off her shoes and reached for her laptop. As she waited for the screen to come to life, Jemma stripped her clothes and changed to the comfort of her pjs. After a few clicks, music started to play from the speakers. With music playing it rid of that eerie silence that had haunted her earlier. It didn't rid of the conversation she over heard from Ward, though, that still rang in her ears.

Jemma fell asleep to music playing, keeping it on as she slept because she feared she wouldn't sleep with out.

Ward isn't in the garage in the morning for their usual work out. Though, there is a note scrawled out in his neat cramped hand writing saying he was driving up to meet with a SHIELD officer who's a few hours away and it will be late when he gets back. There's no explanation as of why. Jemma just hopes it's means she'll be going back to the Bus, but on her terms. And not with this case unsolved.

She skips the work out, even if the more logical part of her brain argues against it. She could use the endorphins, but Jemma doesn't want to work out. It isn't her thing. The most she ever did was yoga during her Academy days, and the was mostly in part of her roommate urging. Yoga was a lost practice when she started in SciOps.

"Ok." Jemma said as she turned back to the students after turning off the smart board. "You have the rest class, twenty minutes about, to work on the homework due next class. I greatly urge you to work on it, and not socialize, but if you do choose to talk please do it quietly."

Teaching wasn't her favorite thing, no one seemed that interested in the class. She learned very early on that they would talk and avoid their homework no matter what she did. Might as well not ignore it.

'Mrs Faye?" Julie asked, a tall brunette who was more interested in her social status than the class.

"Yeah."

"Did you hear about the body found in the woods last night? It was all over the news."

Jemma paled. She did a little more than hear about the body. "Yeah. Why?"

Julie shrugged her shoulders. "It just seemed odd. We get deaths and stuff, but never murders like that. Or at least not a lot of them."

"So, I'm guessing it was unusual?"

Julie nodded. "Yeah sorta. I think it was some type of mobster situation. You know?"

Jemma shook her head. "I didn't."

"Yeah, they won't say who it was, but they said he worked for the bank. Oh, maybe he knew something he shouldn't have. Now that would be interesting."

In Jemma's opinion, Julie watched to many movies. Though, it was a valid theory. Especially since Jemma hadn't talked to Ward about her findings. From what she could tell, it was a standard death by a stab wound, but some things from her samples just seemed off.

When Jemma got back to the house, Ward wasn't there. And even though he left a note, she still worries. She always worries.


End file.
